


Small and Vulnerable

by philsdrill



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Comfort, Dan Howell - Freeform, Drinking, Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M, Party, Phan - Freeform, Phan Fluff, Phandom - Freeform, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Vomit, Vomiting, drunk, phan fic, phanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philsdrill/pseuds/philsdrill
Summary: Dan and Phil have been at a YouTube party in London and Dan had a little too much to drink.





	Small and Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> If you happen to have read this before, I posted this in April 2017 on tumblr. Also if anyone's interested in following me on tumblr - I'm more active on there and there's more fics - you can find me at [philsdrill](https://philsdrill.tumblr.com).

**Phil's POV:**

When his usually articulate way of speaking started to reduce to a drunken slur, that’s when it was time to go home. Dan’s face was red from the heat of the room, feeling no embarrassment from the things he was saying. He was on the verge of being able to offend people now that his filter had been broken down by the alcohol.

“Dan,” I said, pressing a hand firmly on his shoulder to stop him from wandering off, “It’s time to go home.”

“But… but… the party’s not over. We can’t go home yet.”

“Yes, we can, Dan,” I said, knowing that no amount of persuasion could make him agree; I’d have to drag him out of here, unless he wanted even more regrets in the morning.

A taxi was on its way; there was no way Dan was walking or taking the tube in this state. I did what I had to in order to drag him out, putting an arm firmly around his shoulders and hoping that no one was vlogging us. I hoped that by this stage everyone was probably too drunk to bother.

I got Dan outside, but he seemed to have taken the arm around his shoulder the wrong way and now had an arm around my waist, trying to snuggle into my side. I guess it was better than him wandering off.

I pushed Dan into the taxi ahead of me, and made sure the driver knew where we were going. Dan was being extra clingy and didn’t leave me much choice other than sitting in the middle seat, right next to him.

Now that the lights and the music of the party were behind us, replaced by the quiet environment of the taxi, Dan started to turn into more of a sleepy drunk.

Not having the heart to protest, I allowed him to rest his head on my shoulder. We’d be home soon, so it wouldn’t be long before he got to bed. Okay, I’d need to look after him a little first and make sure he had some water and that he wasn’t sleeping in his clothes.

“Phil, my tummy hurts,” he mumbled, almost incoherently.

“Could you open the window?” I asked the driver, a bit concerned that Dan was going to throw up.

“D'you think you’re gonna be sick?” I asked Dan, not really expecting a sensical answer but trying anyway.

“Don’t know,” he slurred, nuzzling into my neck.

I really hoped he wouldn’t, because I would be the one getting covered in it. I needed to get him facing the window instead. The fresh air would maybe help a bit anyway.

“Hey Dan, look out the window,” I said, faking excitement to make him interested.

Dan slowly lifted his head and turned to look out the window, “Whaatt…?”

Holding the back of his head to stop him from moving too much, I explained, “You need to keep looking out the window, okay. It’s going to make you feel better.”

Dan didn’t protest, clearly too drunk and confused to understand what was going on. I held him still and crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t throw up, at least before he was carefully positioned in front of the toilet in our flat. He’d definitely overdone the drinking, so it was definitely a possibility.

“Do I need to pull over?” the taxi driver asked, clearly getting what was going on - being in a city like London, he would be used to picking up all sorts of drunks from their late nights out partying and clubbing.

“No, keep going, I think he’s going to be okay for a bit longer; we’re not far now,” I said, recognising the road we had just turned into as the one next to ours.

Fortunately, Dan managed to retain the contents of his stomach for the duration of the journey as now we were pulling up outside our flat and he was still staring blankly out the window. He didn’t notice we were home until I told him, and then I still wasn’t exactly convinced he’d understood what I’d said.

I helped Dan out of the car, who then seemed to be overcome by dizziness once he was on his feet. I hooked my arms underneath his until he got his balance. Dan seemed really out of it, swaying drunkenly next to me as the taxi drove off and I opened the door to our building.

I pushed Dan up the stairs ahead of me, meaning that if he fell, he could only fall up. The number of stairs up to our apartment were bad enough sober, so being drunk, they were like Dan’s worst enemy.

“Why so many fuckin’ stairs?” he swore, stumbling up the stairs in front of me, “Where’re we goin’? The moon or somethin’?”

Laughing, I chose to ignore him for a second until I thought of a good response, “Heaven, Dan. Bed.”

“I want bed, but I’m gonna go to hell, Phil. Are there beds in hell too?” Dan asked, pure confusion on his face, gracefully stumbling up the next set of stairs.

“I’m sure there is,” I told him, not wanting to make him unhappy.

“Gooood,” Dan slurred.

Getting to our front door, I unlocked it and encouraged Dan to go up ahead of me again.

“MORE STAIRS!?” he yelled, “Fucking hell.”

Dan began to stumble up the set of stairs to our bathroom, but he stopped halfway, “Phi-il, I feel sick.”

“Keep going Dan,” I said, feeling slightly exasperated; we were so close now, he’d better make it to the bathroom.

At the top of the stairs, Dan paused again, “Phil, m’gonna…”

Grabbing Dan’s hand and shoving it over his mouth, I ungracefully pushed him into the toilet and watched as he collapsed to his knees, violently throwing up all over his hand and into the toilet. Thank God. That would’ve been incredibly messy if he hadn’t made it.

Choking and retching, Dan threw up a couple more times before it seemed that he was done. I was pretty sure this was the worst I’d seen him after drinking and I’d seen him drunk a fair number of times. He was now clutching his stomach and coughing loudly, clearly something stuck in his throat. He coughed and spat into the toilet, dislodging whatever had been bothering him. Still holding his stomach with a pained expression on his face he sat back and… burst into tears.

Dan started to lift his hands to his face to rub his eyes. I grabbed his right arm before he could get it any further. He was about to rub his own vomit in his eye and I had no idea what that would do. I unrolled a great length of toilet roll and used it to wipe his hand as best I could.

“Don’t move, I’m going to get you some water,” I told him, firmly pushing his right hand back down to the floor and hurrying off into the main bathroom.

I brought Dan back a glass of water, but I had to sit and pour it into his mouth because his hands were shaking and he wasn’t really receiving me all that well.

“Right, swirl that around your mouth and spit it into the toilet,” I told him once he had the first mouthful.

Dan did as I said, and then calmly drank the rest of the water that I poured into his mouth. He was still crying uncontrollably but I knew that at least his mouth and throat would feel better. I helped him to his feet and took him through to the main bathroom to get him cleaned up. I was conscious that I was holding the hand he’d puked on, but it was okay, he wasn’t contagious or anything and I could just wash it.

I felt like I was properly babying Dan, with the way I had to help him wash his hands, squirting a good amount of handwash onto them and then using my own hands to rub his together under the flow of water. When they were clean, or at least as clean as they were going to get, I rubbed them dry with a towel. I splashed a little water onto his face to wash away the dribbles of vomit and the salty tear tracks trailing down his face from his eyes.

Now that he was a bit less disgusting, I pulled him into a hug and allowed him to cry on me for a minute or so. I wasn’t going to bother trying to get him to brush his teeth - that would be more effort than it was worth. He was collapsing on me anyway and really needed his bed.

I was about to drag Dan up the last set of stairs when another thing about drunk people crossed my mind. He’d drank a lot and if he fell asleep, there was a chance that the bladder receptors in his brain might not work properly. I didn’t want him to have to deal with the embarrassment - and cleaning - if that were to happen, so I guided him back into the toilet.

“Pee and then you’re going to bed,” I told him, shutting the door over a bit to give him some privacy.

I was very glad I’d made that decision because, as I waited for Dan, it certainly sounded like he’d needed to go. I felt like I was invading his privacy a bit, but it was all for his own good. Anyway, Dan had minimal boundaries when he was drunk; he would probably pee with me in the room without giving it much thought.

Dan stumbled back out of the bathroom and back into my arms. It was a bit of a struggle with us being about the same size, but I picked him up and carried him up those last few stairs. It was certainly easier than watching him struggle, stumbling up them and tripping on every second step.

The walk along the corridor to his room was the easiest bit. Okay, Dan was still stumbling and swaying in his drunken state, but I had an arm around him to keep him steady and stop him from falling. I pushed open the door to his room and didn’t leave his side until he was sitting on his bed.

If I’d left him, Dan might very well have fallen asleep in a button-up shirt and tight skinny jeans. I had no doubt that that would be incredibly uncomfortable and Dan would be in enough of a state in the morning as it was. Okay, he didn’t consent to having me undress him, but I knew that in a sober state, he would agree it the best thing to do.

I got all the buttons on his shirt undone, then struggled to get his arms out as he wasn’t really helping much. I think he was just really confused about what I was doing, but eventually, he cooperated and helped to get his arms out the sleeves of the shirt.

His jeans were another matter; that was when Dan started to get the wrong idea. I unbuckled his belt, unfastened the button and pulled down the zip, all as casually as possible. Dan helped as I started to pull his jeans down, lifting his hips up at the right moment. It took me by surprise when he bucked up suddenly into my hand, the bulge in his boxers pressing into my hand.

“Woah, Dan, no,” I said firmly, moving my hand to the side and pushing his hip back down.

“But Phi-il, I’m horny,” he protested.

“Dan, you’re drunk, you just threw up, you’re in no condition to be doing anything of the sort. I’m just helping you get out of these jeans so you can sleep,” I said firmly.

Dan made a sad noise and gave up whatever he was trying, clearly too tired to continue. As a team, we got his jeans the rest of the way off. I took his phone and wallet out his pockets and placed them on his bedside table before tossing his jeans out of the way.

Clearly exhausted, Dan, now clad in just a pair of black boxers, flopped down on his back.

“You need to sleep on your side, Dan,” I said, taking ahold of his back and thigh and rolling him over.

“Mmmhh,” Dan mumbled, his arms flopping out to adjust to his new position.

“Goodnight Dan,” I said to him, knowing the words would mean nothing in his drunken haze, but saying them anyway out of courtesy.

I hung around in Dan’s room until he was asleep, making sure he didn’t sneakily roll back onto his back or anything. It might seem a bit over-the-top, but I was scared he could throw up in his sleep and choke to death; I’d heard the horror stories.

Dan was asleep in no time, but before I left, I pulled the duvet up over him so he didn’t get cold. I left the room and headed to the kitchen, where I let out an enormous sigh. I wished that Dan was able to control himself better when alcohol was involved. I didn’t mind looking after him; in fact, maybe I quite liked being the one to take care of him in such a vulnerable state, but I knew he’d feel terrible as a result of actions and neither of us wanted that.

With Dan’s guarantee of a hangover on my mind, I prepared for the morning by taking a bottle of water and a strip of painkillers through to his room. I laid them well within reach of the bed, right next to his phone. He’d be able to get the pain relief he needed without having to leave the bed or get me to help him.

I would probably be up well before Dan, but I knew from past experience that he would rather not have any human interaction before having something to kill the inevitable headache. I’d have to keep quiet once I was up, but I could manage that for Dan.

I got myself ready for bed properly, putting on my pyjamas, having a drink of water, going to the toilet, taking out my contacts and brushing my teeth. I’d drunk a bit at the party, but unlike Dan, I was able to control myself. The effects of the alcohol probably wouldn’t get to me; I’d gotten a little tipsy, but I wasn’t at major hangover level drunk.

I went to bed, wondering just how hungover Dan would be in the morning. The painkillers I’d left by his bedside would probably be a big help, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t get out of bed until the afternoon. I’d be on hand to get him more water or coffee or whatever he needed until then.

–

I knew that it wouldn’t be worth waiting for Dan to get up to have _breakfast and anime_ with him. I grabbed myself a quick bowl of cereal from the kitchen and ate it on my own, in silence. I decided to do a little tidying in my room, so that it would be presentable in the background of my upcoming video - and that way I wouldn’t be far away from Dan if he needed me.

As it happened, Dan did need me; his voice called out from his room, hoarse and shaky, “PHI-IL.”

“Coming,” I shouted back, laying down what I was holding and heading across to Dan’s room.

I pushed open the door to Dan’s room and made my way across the room to his bed. He was still laying on his side, but with his head propped up a little the pillow and the bottle of water in his hand.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked him, keeping my voice as a soft murmur so it wasn’t too loud.

“Not great,” he said, his voice scratchy, “I’ve taken the painkillers but my head feels like someone’s smashed it and I’m really thirsty. I really don’t feel good.”

“What do you need?” I asked him, wondering what else I could do other than keep him supplied with water and painkillers at the appropriate times.

“A little company mainly,” he said, “I feel a bit sick but I tried to sit up and I felt really dizzy so I don’t really want to be alone.”

“That’s okay, I’ll stay here,” I told him, pulling his butt-seat over a bit nearer his bed so I could keep him company.

“I’m surprised my stomach’s not worse actually, with this headache,” he mumbled, “How much did I drink?”

“I don’t know, so much I lost count,” I told him honestly, “How much of last night d’you remember?”

“I remember having a few drinks, but I can only remember the first bit of the party clearly,” he told me, “It starts to get a bit fuzzy after like halfway through. You made me stick my head out the taxi window or something, but I don’t think I remember a thing after that.”

“I’m not surprised to be honest; you were pretty out of it,” I told him, “And well, the reason your stomach isn’t worse is because you did all the throwing up last night when we got home.”

“In the toilet?” he questioned, concern in his voice.

“Yes, thankfully. I literally had to shove you in there,” I explained.

“‘M sorry,” Dan mumbled.

“S’okay, I’m just glad I didn’t have to clean it up,” I admitted, “It was a lot; I’d probably have been cleaning all night if you’d gone for the carpet instead.”

“Ahh,” Dan mumbled, his cheeks going a bit pink, “I’m sorry if that was disgusting.”

“It’s fine,” I told him, with a light-hearted laugh, “Just try and control yourself better next time, yeah.”

“I’ll try,” Dan groaned, “I hate feeling this shit.”

“Would some tea make you feel better? Or coffee?” I suggested, trying to think of what I could do to help him feel a bit better.

“I don’t feel like I could stomach coffee at the moment, so tea - I think I could cope with that. C-could you bring a - no, I don’t know…” he trailed off.

“You want me to bring a bucket or something just in case?” I assumed, “Sure.”

“T-that’d be g-good thanks,” he stuttered, “Sorry, just not feeling that confident.”

Giving him a comforting pat on the back, I got up to go, “Right, I’ll go and put the kettle on and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

I was hesitant to leave Dan by himself, as I knew he didn’t really want to be alone, but it had to be done. As promised, I returned a couple of minutes later with a cup of steaming tea, a couple of crackers and an empty plastic tub. I laid everything down on his bedside table, so I could help Dan up.

I gave him a hand to sit up, so that he was propped up against the headboard. In the process, Dan scrunched his eyes shut and held his forehead with one hand.

“Dan, are you okay? Do you need to lay back down?” I asked him concerned that he was feeling dizzy despite us having taken it slow/

“I’m fi-ine, just give me a second,” he said, slowly opening one eye, “Right, I’m okay, just my head’s still killing me. I’ll try having some tea now.”

I handed Dan the cup of tea, keeping a hand on the cup as he drank to support some of its weight. He was a bit shaky and I didn’t want him to drop it. After he’d had good few sips of the tea, I handed him a cracker. He chewed and swallowed each bite very hesitantly, but stopped after a few bites, dropping the cracker on his duvet and reaching out for the plastic tub I’d left to the side on the table.

Dan didn’t throw up, but it was clear he was feeling sick from both how pale he was and his newly laboured breathing.

“I’m going to see if we’ve got any medicine for an upset stomach,” I told him, “Try and take big slow breaths - that might help the nausea.”

I ran downstairs to the bathroom and found what I was looking for pretty quickly. I took them to Dan, checked he was happy to take them, and handed him the correct dose. I plopped myself down next to Dan on his bed, now properly fulfilling my promise to stay with him. I rubbed his back gently, not wanting to say much as he seemed to be pretty sensitive to light and noise in his current state.

For the best part of twenty minutes, I sat there, not saying anything but periodically rubbing his back. He hadn’t pushed me away so I hoped that he was finding comfort in the gesture. His grip had slowly loosed on the plastic tub and he seemed a bit more relaxed now.

“Are you feeling any better?” I asked softly, turning to look him in the eye.

“A bit yeah…” he mumbled, “I feel less sick.”

“D’you want to eat any more?” I asked, wondering if he would be up to finishing the crackers I’d brought.

“Not yet; I think I might go back to sleep,” he said, “I’m not saying I wouldn’t manage them, it’s just I’d rather sleep and try eating later.”

Sure,” I said, “I’ll let you sleep until lunchtime, yeah, and we’ll see how you feel then.”

“Sounds good,” Dan said, “Thank you.”

“D’you want me to stay until you’re asleep?” I asked him.

“I don’t really mind,” Dan said, “But that would be nice.”

I got off the bed to allow Dan to snuggle back down under the covers, returning to sit on the butt seat so that I wouldn’t disturb him when I eventually got up to leave. After a minute or two, a small sniffle sounded from under the duvet and then a noise akin to that of holding back a sob.

I stood up and made my way over to Dan’s bedside again, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just regretting my choices last night,” he complained, voice high as he tried to control his emotions, “I just feel so shit, physically and mentally.”

I bent down and brought my arms around him; the position was a little awkward but it was the best I could do, “It’s okay, I’m here for you. You’ll feel better once you’ve slept some more and if you need to talk about anything, I’m not going anywhere all day.”

I remained hugging Dan for a couple of minutes, as he had brought his arms around my back and wasn’t letting go. It was only when his crying calmed down that he freed me from his arms and wiped the tears from his eyes with the corner of his duvet.

“I’m okay now,” he murmured, not sounding entirely convinced, but I knew he was okay for the moment.

There might be something bothering him which we’d need to talk about later, but he’d probably let enough of his emotions out to ease his mind enough to get to sleep. As promised, I waited until he was fast asleep until I left him, not wanting to leave him alone when he was feeling so vulnerable. Despite being a physically big guy, like myself, it was at times like this when Dan seemed really small: his softer, weaker, more emotional side burning brighter than his big, loud personality.

I let Dan be, and it didn’t come as a surprise that it was lunchtime before I saw him again. He walked, albeit a little shakily, along the hallway and down the stairs to the bathroom. I didn’t see him for about another forty-five minutes, when he walked back the other way, now wrapped in a towel and looking a little damp.

“D’you want some lunch?” I asked him, as he passed, “Like some toast or something?”

“Yeah, toast would be great,” he called back, from his room.

I put some bread in the toaster for Dan’s lunch and decided I would make myself a sandwich. Everything was ready and on plates, when Dan appeared, now looking pretty comfortable in his pyjamas.

“Today’s gonna be a pyjama day for me, I’ve decided,” Dan said firmly, sounding a lot better than he had earlier, “I’m feeling a lot better, but still not fantastic.”

We took our lunch through to the living room, where we settled down for _lunch and anime_. Dan felt better again after getting a little food in him and he continued to get better throughout the day. After how he’d felt this morning, Dan told me that he’d never drink that much again, but I doubted he’d actually stick to that. It was one of those things that everyone said and no one ever stuck to.

Dan gradually got back to his usual self, though his small and vulnerable side continued to make appearances throughout the day. He had a couple more emotional moments, but this time he was strong enough to tell me what was bothering him. It was a good thing that the effect of the alcohol had only been temporary.


End file.
